Break From Reality. Daily.
Rainy nights were the worst.
Jake stuffed the towel into the frame of the leaky window. There, that should do it. He flopped onto the peeling vinyl seat of the ancient chair. He’d naively assumed that when he graduated the rehab program, the world would open before him. But six months, ten commandments, and twelve steps later, he was still haunted by the ghosts of his past—especially on rainy evenings.
This story is by Ashlyn McKayla Ohm and was part of our 2020 Summer Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here. There was no reason to be awake. So I kept my eyes shut. I didn’t need to open them to picture the cramped room, anyway. The ceiling was low;…
The last thing Sherri Larson needed was another storm in her life.
Huddled in the heavy darkness of what was little better than a metal box, Sherri wrapped her arms around her knees and willed her heart rate to steady. Just above her head, growling thunder reminded her that the danger was far from over. In fact, it was only beginning.
She should have known something was wrong that morning. The day had been bright and cloudless, but far too hot for late September on the Kansas prairie. Around noon, dark clouds had begun boiling on the horizon. Still, she’d never dreamed things could turn so deadly—not until the tornado sirens began screaming, and she’d seen the lethal wall clouds for herself, spinning relentlessly across the plains toward the small town where Sherri owned and operated a diner.
